


The Price of Silk

by Celebrusc



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dooku and Obi-Wan actually know each other, Family Feels, Gen, all the things we deserved but never got, nice!Dooku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrusc/pseuds/Celebrusc
Summary: When Count Dooku senses his old Padawan's death, he immediately sets out for Naboo. Not so much for the dead, for the son he has lost, but rather for the living.Its Dooku who with shaking hands knights Obi-Wan, its Dooku who councils him through those first trying years with Anakin. Its Dooku, who even when he leaves the Order, swears to be there for the family he leaves behind.And its Dooku, through love of that Family, that Falls.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[Translation]The Price of Silk 绕指绸的代价](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158575) by [isaakfvkampfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaakfvkampfer/pseuds/isaakfvkampfer)



> So I'm gonna state, right out, that I didn't realise I'd written Dooku's Fall until the day after I'd written this.  
> It started out as a tumblr conversation about how we didn't get to see enough familial interaction between Obi-Wan and Dooku. That it would have made Geonosis, and the war, far more emotional. (Like there isn't enough feels as is.) Then the suggestion appeared of Dooku knighting obi-Wan.  
> It was 11pm, and my brain grabbed this idea and went nope. No sleep until this is written. Write now.
> 
> So I wrote this, posted in three parts, in a couple of hours, in a desperate bit to be functional the next day.
> 
> I've put spaces to differentiate the three sections, because I personally find it more emotional to pause at the end of each. That doesn't mean you have to though, read as you will. At risk of your own heart strings.
> 
> Its also unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.

No one is entirely sure how, but Master Dooku somehow manages to materialise on Naboo less than a day after the Council. He doesn’t report to them, a fact that is completely in character (Qui-Gon had to learn his defiance from someone). He doesn’t pause to pay his respects to the Queen, an action that is most definitely not. Instead he strides through the Theed’s palace like a force of nature, unhesitant and unerring in his path.

Not to Qui-Gon’s body. He aches to pay his respects, even though he flinches from the idea of seeing his padawan, his  _son_ , so still, so cold. The barest flicker of  _How has Yoda coped all these years_? Through his mind. No. Qui-Gon Jinn is one with the Force now, time has no meaning there. But in this moment there is the living, and he has a duty there.

He finds Obi-Wan meditating in the garden, to the casual glance the picture of Jedi serenity. But Dooku can see the tension in the shoulders, the barest shaking of clenched hands around an old familiar riverstone. Can feel the jagged edges of the Force. There is little in the way of meditation being achieved.

It doesn’t take Obi-Wan long to notice him, and rise to shaky feet.

“I’m sorry,” are the first broken words out of the child’s mouth. “It’s my fault, I should have…”

There are tears shining in his grandpadawan’s eyes, as his voice cracks, and Dooku doesn’t hesitate. He pulls Obi-Wan to his chest and holds him tight. Uncaring of who sees. As though this last piece of Qui-Gon might slip through his fingers too.

“Hush, child. It’s not your fault.” He says gently.

“But…”

“No. No matter what happened. It is a Master’s job to protect his student, not the other way around.”

Dooku might not know what has happened, has no context for the remnants of a battlefield he has flown through to get here. Knows nothing but that his padawan is dead. But he knows this, knows that his death is not Obi-Wan’s fault. Even if the boy does not believe it.

One hand clasps a shoulder, arm wrapping around to tug Obi-Wan close. The other gently cards through the short red spikes of hair on the boy’s head, before slowly tracing down the long braid trailing behind Obi-Wan’s right ear. Caressing markers, stones, and coloured ties. Each as much a mark of his padawan’s journey through life as Obi-Wan’s. Finally, his fingers find warm chestnut brown fused amongst the brighter, fiery, strands, and his heart twinges.

“He would not want you to blame yourself, child. The greatest gift either of us can give him now is living. I promise. I will finish your apprenticeship.”

Obi-Wan gives a broken sob, before pulling back. “I’m to be knighted.”

Dooku blinks. “What?” Not entirely sure he can believe his ears. True, Obi-Wan couldn’t have been far away but…

“Master recommended me for my trials before we left Coruscant, and the Council, the Council consider my victory against the Sith here trial enough. They said there was a precedent. Something about bravery in battle.”

Indeed there was a precedent, but not in a thousand years. And, a Sith? He must have misheard. True, he had long since grown frustrated at the Council’s blindness to the growing dark, but he had never imagined…

“But I,” the boy paused, obviously battling to find the words. “Would you do the honour of knighting me?”

“Oh, child.” Dooku murmured, pulling his grandpadawan back in close. “The honour would be mine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s sunrise, when the ritual takes place. The dawning of a new day, a new life, a step into the light.

In the time since he left Obi-Wan – finally asleep for the first time in what Dooku is sure are days – he has visited Qui-Gon’s body. Ranted and cursed  _foolish child_. All unseen, unheard. Jedi have no use for attachment, for grief. He has made his peace, as much as can be made, with the son he has lost, and he has sworn to care for the one left behind.

He has spoken with his own Grandmaster. Finally heard the tale of a warrior with red and black skin, a blood coloured sabre, and a nine year old boy from the desert. Of Obi-Wan’s slight, of his insistence on taking the boy, Anakin Skywalker, as his padawan. Never mind that the decision to knight Obi-Wan had yet to be made. Never mind that the boy was three years too young to be a padawan, and four years too old for the crèche. Never mind that Obi-Wan himself was far too young to take an apprentice.

When Dooku had mentioned it, Obi-Wan had set his jaw, and a far too familiar look had entered his eye. Some lessons, it seemed, Obi-Wan had learnt from his Master a little too well.

The hand that holds the sabre to Obi-Wan’s scalp is steady, and he speaks the ritual words with clear and calm voice. Or rather he hears them spoken. In this moment it is like he is outside himself. His actions, his emotions, completely divided. He can’t help but remember the last time he did this. Reaching up, instead of down. Brown hair instead of red. He blinks and for a moment sees Qui-Gon, twenty-eight again, standing before him.  Full of vibrant brilliant life. A sober look, but eyes grinning with joy. He’d smiled then, now he was trying not to cry.

With the final word he sliced the fine braid, like softest silk, the record of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship, and wrapped it the boy’s hands. Bowing he stepped back, allowing the Council to offer congratulations, subdued though they were. Everyone keenly aware the one that mattered most would never be heard.

_(Obi-Wan in turn looks up as his Grandmaster, and can’t help but see long hair over short, strong hands in the place of elegant, a gentle smile in the place of barely suppressed grief. The words of congratulations ring hollow as his ears strain for the only ones that ever mattered. The ones he knows he’ll never hear.  
But the pride that burns in hard brown eyes instead of mischievous blue is the same, and that, in the end, is what makes his decision. )_

It was only after - when Obi-Wan tracks him down in those same gardens Dooku had found the boy in before, and wraps  _his_  hands around the braid, arguing his hesitant refusal with “I want you to have it. If I can’t, if Qui-Gon cannot have it, then I want it to be you.” and how can he refuse that? - That he finally,  _finally,_ allows himself to cry.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s just over three years later, when Obi-Wan shows up at his door unannounced. The knight that lets himself in is a little more confidant, his hair not quite brushing his collar, and he’s finally growing into the gangly frame he’d had when knighted.

His changeable blue green eyes are accusing, and a little bit cold. “You’re leaving.”

Dooku sighs, and puts down the book he’d been reading. Rising to his feet when instead of taking his usual seat opposite his grandmaster, Obi-Wan opts to stand. “I had hoped to tell you myself.”

“How long?”

“Have I been considering this? A  _very_  long time, Obi-Wan. Five years? Ten? Fifteen? I couldn’t say now. Long before Naboo. Qui-Gon was aware of my thoughts.”

The tension braced for confrontation bleeds from Obi-Wan’s muscles at that. “So it’s not recent? Why have you stayed this long?”

Dooku shakes his head fondly, and reached up to trace were Obi-Wan’s padawan braid had once lain. “First, for Qui-Gon, and Master Yoda. More recently? Do you really have to ask that, youngling?”

“No, I guess not.” Obi-Wan lowers his eyes for a moment, before raising them to meet Dooku’s own. This time filled with an odd mix of curiosity and concern. “But why now?”

Dooku turns back to his seat before responding, this time Obi-Wan following, and busies his hands with his cup of tea. “Anakin has just turned thirteen, Obi-Wan. The proper age to become a padawan, and you have had a few years to settle into your knighthood. You no longer need me here.”

Obi-Wan’s head jerks up in surprise. “But, Master!”

“It’s time you stood on your own two feet, Obi-Wan. You no longer need me hovering over you.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan’s eyes turn cold once more, and he rises to his feet.

To Dooku, it’s plain that the boy does  _not_  see. The battles of self worth he’s had to fight these last year have been the hardest part, and the most vital. “Obi-Wan, sit down.” His tone is that of a Master, and brooks no arguments. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan obeys. “I am leaving the Order, not abandoning you. If you need anything, anything at all, I am only a com call away, and I will do anything in my power to help. I may cease to be a Jedi, Obi-Wan, but I will always be your grandmaster. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan nods, smiling sadly. “Yes, Master. I will miss you.”

“And I promise, Padawan, I will always be there for you.”

It’s that conversation, along with late nights on Serenno -“He’s lost his light sabre” “I think I’ve poisoned him” “He’s too aggressive in his fighting, how do I teach him finesse?” “Anakin has been thrown in jail, and our order funds don’t cover the bail money” “He’s lost his light sabre, again” “We’re stranded” “Anakin jumped into a Sarlacc pit” “His flying, by the Force he’s worse than Qui-Gon” “Help! He’s specialising in FORM V”  “He’s still mooning over the Senator” “ He’s lost his light sabre, AGAIN” – that runs through his head in tandem with the soft silk he’s winding through his fingers, one strand golden red the other warmest brown, five (or is it six?) years later, as he flies through the rubble laden skies over Geonosis. Conversation and silk which slowly spreads the finest cracks through his heart. Cracks that with time, only grow wider. More painful. An endless, unstoppable ache.

 

**_Pain leading to anger (at the Jedi that have failed them)_ **

**_Anger is passion (as is love, and he loved his boys so)_ **

**_Passion leads to strength (so much more than the Jedi could ever imagine)_ **

**_Through strength, victory (over the corruption that poisons the galaxy)_ **

**_Through victory my chains are broke (no more to be restrained by the edicts of blind council members)_ **

**_The Force shall free me. (It hurts, oh it hurts, but it shall be worth it.)_ **

**Author's Note:**

> So now you've survived that, I've a couple more words. This appeared initially in my head as as series of images/scenes. One day I may do a very terrible series of sketches to make a comic to go with. (Unless someone else wants to).  
> Those images were:  
> Dooku finding Obi-Wan trying desperately to be the Knight Qui-Gon spoke of,  
> Dooku swearing without hesitation to see Obi-Wan knighted,  
> Dooku standing alone over Qui-Gon’s body,  
> Obi-Wan’s jaw shaded with Qui-Gon’s stubborness,  
> Dooku knighting Obi-Wan with the ghost of qui-gon who was/shouldhavebeen haunting both of them,  
> Obi-Wan in the doorway having just heard about Dooku leaving, and finally  
> the line “I may no longer be a Jedi, but I will always be your grandmaster” echoing as Dooku flies away from Geonosis with two braids entwined around his fingers


End file.
